


The Only Pleasure I've Ever Known is the Warmth of the Sun on My Face

by RoxanneTucker



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Apocalypse World Folks, Daddy Dean, Dean Winchester Has a Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, F/M, Filthy talk, Mildly Dubious Consent, Post-Episode: s14e03 The Scar, Protective Dean Winchester, Season/Series 14, Underage if you assume that real world Kaia wasn't 18, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:48:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28326336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoxanneTucker/pseuds/RoxanneTucker
Summary: Bad Place Kaia asks Dean to teach her what she's never known.He’d been cruel. He’d had eyes of new moss and his hands hurt her. They were large and knew where to dig. She wondered what else those hands knew.What was this, this tightness behind her breastbone, this wormlike warmth in her belly, the pulse of her, deep, deep, when thoughts of hurting him, too, raced through her?
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Kaia Nieves, Kaia Nieves/Dean Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Dean and Kaia (or Jensen and Yadira) had such astonishing chemistry. I wanted to explore that further. 
> 
> Mildly dubious consent, as Dark Kaia needs to convince him and Dean does have a moral code, even though he often breaks it. Also, this would be underage, if you consider Bad Place Kaia a representative of Kaia and believe that she's under 18.
> 
> This will be a few chapters of smutty goodness.

She hated these bare flat lands, so naked and exposed except for the collection of low flat buildings that pocked it. A tree was a rare and runty thing, weak and squalid compared to the trees of the place she hated. The only home she’d ever known. This was home now, she assumed, an existence as miserable as the one she’d left, where she was still hunted, but now by creatures who needed several bites to eat her. Instead of just the one. 

But she’d left the mighty trees that reminded her of home, that provided cover and at least familiarity, for this bare flat land. 

Now she was the hunter. 

He’d been cruel. He’d had eyes of new moss and his hands hurt her. They were large and knew where to dig. She wondered what else those hands knew. His voice, deep and trembling, had shaken her like the ground where her monsters walked. Earlier, the voice had called her “wild one” and she’d hated its smooth condescension. There was nothing wild about her — she was as sophisticated as her world demanded. But when he’d been cruel, when he’d roared and demanded and threatened, he treated her like an equal. He understood her power. He knew she could hurt him, too. 

What was this, this tightness behind her breastbone, this wormlike warmth in her belly, the pulse of her, deep, deep, when thoughts of hurting him, too, raced through her? 

She was compelled. So she hunted. 

She found a wide door sunk into the rock. A door in this low flat land. She sniffed at it. She hit it with her spear. It remained impassive. But then she heard a monster, a deep roar, and she made herself a shadow as two beams, angel eyes or hellfire, shot through the dark, and then — of course — a car, the other dreamwalker’s memories supplied her. His car, black and gleaming, rolled forward as the door opened. A worthy protector. The car rolled through and she, a shadow, did as well. 

His beast stopped and then ceased its roaring. Its belly opened with a squeal and a crack. 

“—long we’re gonna be able to feed all these damn people, Sam. They weren’t in an apocalypse that long.” 

She could see the sharp line of his jaw, the artful fall of his hair from where she crouched. Even tetchy and complaining — what did this pretty man have to complain about in this soft world? — his voice made her shiver. He pulled bags of food he didn’t have to kill and gut out of his car. “Don’t they remember how to get jobs?”

The towering man stared over the top of the car with frustration and patience. “They’re doing good work, Dean. And we need the help — we can focus on finding Michael and Jack while they take care of the ordinary supernatural.” 

Dean raised an arm and its bags. “Well, these are going in my room,” he said, shaking them. What a waste of such tremendous strength. “And if that asshole Dwayne drinks my beer again, I’m getting the Colt.”

The tall man also carried his bags of goods like they were nothing and settled where he always stood: protecting his brother’s flank. 

She’d known creatures born of the same mother. But she’d never seen devotion like this. Any creature who did not put itself first was quickly eaten. The tall one with his tender confusion for her, the girl who’d inhabited this body, would have made a delicious snack back home. 

Dean showed no such tenderness. 

The lights went out and she walked through the space like it was bright day, put her hand against the door to feel the tremor-less hallway void of people behind it, opened it and followed his scent, the tracking easier than she’d expected to be with the vibration of voices and movement throughout the well-provisioned cave. But there was no one along her path. 

And then she was beside a doorway where his scent had gathered — a smell of burned wood and just-tapped sap and that one handful of mountain fruit she’d gotten before the raptors descended — and she slipped inside. She crept silently among the neatly arranged shelves pulled aside to reveal a room and a chair and a symbol of magic on the floor. And then the shelves slammed closed and she whirled to block an ascending weapon — an angel’s blade — with her spear. 

His green eyes went wide. “You!?” he growled.

Crouched down, spear holding his blade against the shelf, she smiled the smile that had already irritated him. “Hello, Dean.”

“You didn’t have to sneak in here,” he scowled, starting to relax. “I coulda killed you.”

“Unlikely,” she said. She didn’t want him to see the girl. She didn’t want the tenderness his brother offered. “But you can still try.”

She wanted him to acknowledge the creature that had survived an eon in her hell-home. 

She let go of his angel blade to make a teasing jab, to watch him lunge back in surprise and shove away from the wall in annoyance. “Aw, c’mon—“ he got out before she circled his angel blade with her spear and popped it from his hand. 

Maybe this was all the human had. Maybe the grace belonged to the angel and she’d journeyed this far and woken sweaty and panting from shivery dreams for a wish-filled fantasy. She should have known there was no pleasure meant for her...

Like a lizard, like lightening, he grabbed her spear, swung her around and against him, then clutched the other end of her spear to press her close. 

In the blink of an eye, he’d turned his body into her cage and her spear into her bars. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said into her ear, the sound scouring like a million small warm rocks. “And I sure as fuck don’t want you to hurt me. What’re you up to, little girl?”

She was used to the hard of the ground she slept on or the rocks she crawled over or the trees she hid behind. But his hardness was warm and fit the curves of her, chest to back, pelvis to hind end, thick tree-limb arms that could crush or defend her. The forest that surrounded her had never smelled so good. 

She nestled back against him and tucked her head under his chin. 

His hard body went harder. “What the—“

“Dean!” His brother’s voice was loud and panicked just outside the room. “Dean, you okay?”

Dean cleared his throat. “I’m...I’m okay, Sammy.” She could feel the timbre of his voice against her back. “Tell everyone it’s all clear.”

“Who’s—“

“It’s...um...it’s Kaia. Or Kaia’s body snatcher. Just give us a minute, okay.” She turned her head, luxuriated in the warmth and scent of the breath that came from the heart of him. “Maybe prep a spare bedroom. If we got any left.”

When his jaw stilled, she tilted up her forehead and rubbed against the short, sharp hairs there. It tickled as much as it soothed.

“Kaia,” he said, a question in his voice and an earthquake tremble down her spine. 

She closed her eyes and gave in to the urge to rock her hips. “Keep speaking. I can feel it between my legs.”

He dropped her spear and staggered back as if she’d grown spikes. “What the hell...?”

She turned to face him, to continue this fight that had turned into a...dance. Dance. That’s what Kaia would have called it, watching it on television, her aunt with a cloth wrapped around her head holding her close. A beautiful dance. 

“I want you to mount me, Dean Winchester,” she said. “I’ve never been mounted and I would enjoy it with you.”

“Woah, woah, woah!” he said, hands up, a useless defense. His eyes were wide and his soft lips were open. He looked like a beautiful child. 

Was there any face this man had that didn’t make her crave?

“I can’t...I’m not...you don’t...” He was backing away from her. She was the vessel. He was the oil. On her world and his, she’d learn that the oil always wanted to give it, regardless whether the vessel wanted to receive. 

And she wanted...

“Have you never mounted?” she asked, following him, confused. “I can explain the process.” Although she only had the beasts and the dream-walker’s memories to draw on for expertise.

He scowled at her. “No, I’ve...mounted. I just...I can’t. With you.”

Suddenly, she wanted her spear in hand. She wanted to put it to his throat and make him take back the words that carved out a hollow in the center of her. Carved out a wound and then coated it the sharp acid of spitting insects. “Men have looked at Kaia with desire,” she said, drawing herself up. “I thought...I’m sorry you find our form objectionable.”

She felt her lip tremble and she sunk her teeth into the flesh to stop it as she turned away, meaning to grab her spear and find a way back to her hell-home even if it meant digging her way through with its tip.

“Goddammit,” she heard him growl behind her. Then his hand was on her arm and he was swinging her back to face him. 

She could break that hand. But it was warm, hard, large. And he’d pulled her like she was a feather. 

Her heart pounded — she could hear it, the call of threat and warning in her ears. But for the first time in her life, rather than wanting to run away, she wanted to move closer. To feel the teeth against her skin.

“I don’t...you’re not...you’re not objectionable,” he said, fiercely, eyes bright, hand hot, warmth like a rock that had retained some of the day’s heat. There was nothing of the cool, fuckless angel about him. That’s what Kaia would have called him. “Fuckless.” “I can’t because…because you’re too young.”

She scoffed. “I’ve survived eons longer than most of the things in my world.”

He got a deep line between his brows when she’d vexed him. “We’re not in your world, are we?”

“Neither are we in yours,” she said. “None of this is familiar to Kaia. None of this—“ she motioned to the walls of their cave and the warding. “…follows your world’s rules. Why should they dictate whether you mount me?”

He closed his eyes. “Stop saying ‘mount.’”

“What’s a better word for it? Bone?”

Those long lashes — why would a creature need such luxury? — opened quickly. He let her go. 

“Make love. Do it.” She said Kaia’s words as they occurred to her, stepping up close as he put a hand on her shoulder to stop her. “Bump uglies. Do the nasty. Tap that ass.” His lips quirked at that before he smothered it. The pleasures of this world. To have a thing called “humor.” 

“Get your dick wet.” 

All humor fled as he grabbed her other shoulder to hold her more firmly away. “Stop it.”

“Fuck.”

She’d stayed alive long enough to ask Dean Winchester to mount her by reading the devouring creatures who crossed her path. But she had no experience to be able to read his reaction when she said that word. All she knew was the hard, fast squeeze of this fingers, the flare of his eyes, the quick press of blood along his hard jawline, the sudden jump of his scent…she liked it. She wanted it to happen again.

“I want you to fuck me, Dean Winchester,” she said, up into his bedeviling face as she leaned against his hands. “I think of you, of fucking you, and the thought makes me shiver. Makes me tight here.” She cupped where the babies suckled. “And squeeze here.” She ran her hand down to where she felt heavy. “I get slick between my legs when I think of you touching me there. Is that so I can receive your oil?”

“Jesus fuck.” He shook her, only once but hard. “Stop it.”

“Please Dean.” She felt as desperate as when she’d first learned to hunt, starving and watching the animal creeping around her trap. “Show me fucking and going down on me and blow jobs and ass play and fingering and…” The images, the pictures flickering through her brain made as little sense as the words, but they had her heart racing and her thighs squeezing and Dean’s fingers digging into her shoulders and his eyes like fire. “All I’ve ever known is fear and deprivation. The only pleasure I’d experienced is the warmth of the sun on my face. But when I think of you, now, when I look at you, the sun breaks out all over me. Inside me. If I am a youngling, don’t I deserve some care? Don’t I need a teacher, a master?”

He wrenched her against him, held her against him like the moss that coated the rock. She could feel his warm breath in her hair. “Little girl, even if…even if I could get my brain around this…” He smelled like the wilds of this world, of fight without fear. He felt more pleasurable than a full stomach and a safe den. “My brother…the other hunters here. They’d never let me…have you.”

She made a decision in an instant. “My spear. If you give me what I want, I’ll let you use it.” He fingers flinched on her shoulders and the ache was delicious. “Come to the cabin. Teach me pleasure. Then you can take the spear, kill the archangel, and return it to me. We can both have what we want.”

She would beg him no more. Instead, she would barter. 

She stepped back from him and he let her go. She stooped to pick up her spear then raised her chin as she looked up at him. He was a monster next to Kaia’s small frame. “I will wait until the new moon.” He knew what a danger it was for her to remain in one place. “If you do not come,” she bowed her head. “Live long and well, Dean Winchester.”

If he did not come, he would not see her — or her spear — again. She slipped out of the room without looking back; slipped out their underground cave without another soul seeing her. 

That night, when she found that shivery place he created between her legs, she squeezed the bruises on her shoulder and felt the rare beam of desperate hope.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Dark Kaia come to an understanding. In the bathtub.

She heard the roar of his beast through the forest long before he arrived, giving her plenty of time to prepare. 

By the time the eyes of his beast flashed over the cabin, she was ready: She stood at the top of the steps in long linen and a shawl, her spear planted next to her, the lure to bring him inside if her unbound hair and bare feet weren’t enough to do it.

Kaia had imagined him as a man who liked to watch people undress.

The beast whined as he opened its door. The man unwound and stepped out. Once again, she was struck with the size of him. The width. She was used to thinking of humans as frail.

He had that dent between his eyes as he approached, and she turned and walked inside. His boots thundered against the wooden boards behind her. He called himself a “hunter.” But he’d never needed stealth. Like the largest beasts in her hell-world, he roared and expected small things to scurry.

She opened the bathroom door and stepped inside.

“Huh,” she heard him say behind her. 

Steam curled around the small room, the scent of the tincture she’d found beneath the sink riding with it, smelling like a burning fire and the beckoning scent of blossoms. Flames flickered on the candles she’d lit and scattered around the tiny room. It reminded her of a cave she’d once found and sheltered in, unmolested, for one night. 

She turned to face him standing in the doorway. “I will ready myself for you,” she said. That made his chin tick up like she’d sworn violence upon him. She hadn’t. She glared at him then pointed at the toilet. “Sit there.”

He sat like a trap lurked below the white rock bowl.

She slammed her spear against the tile wall, ripped off the shawl, grabbed for the bottom hem of the long linen gown. In Kaia’s memories, a “bubble bath” was “romantic.” But he still looked at her like a creature with fangs.

She didn’t want to feel this way for him. She didn’t want the thought of his rough hands, his tall body, his bright eyes, and his low voice to make her feel listless and distracted. They way he made her feel could get her killed. Her feeling for him was like the first steps of a long journey and she just wanted to get to the journey’s end and then never see him again.

She ripped the “nightgown” up over Kaia’s calves and knees and thighs, up over the apex of her, over belly and breasts and head, then threw it to the side. She lifted her foot to step into the steaming tub and drown herself among the bubbles. 

“Hey,” he said, putting his hand on her arm — her bare dark arm, calloused skin on sleek. 

She exhaled a puff, startled as she looked at him. She could feel his touch low in her stomach.

His green eyes looked like the soft algae that bloomed during the painfully brief warm season of her hell-home. “Don’t be mad at me,” he told her. “This is…I’ve got…you might not be Kaia, but you sure as hell look like her. And I don’t mess around with girls as young and sweet as Kaia. Never did.”

“Then leave,” she said coldly, in direct contrast to the way his soft words and warm hand and troubled frown made her feel. She had no use for his gentleness. Couldn’t get used to it.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Unless you want me to go.” 

With his big hand wrapped around her arm, his calloused thumb rubbed slowly over her skin. Her body gave a visible shiver and she could feel her nipples draw up into hard beads. His eyes juddered, and then focused intently on her eyes, her nose, her mouth. She realized then that he was making an effort not to look down at her unclothed body. 

“I’ve been to where you live,” he said. “I believe you when you said you’ve never felt anything nice. You want that from me, I’ll give it to you.”

She shivered again and this time, it caused his mouth to curve up at the corners while his eyes went sleepy. She imagined they got tired holding up the weight of his thick lashes. 

“Get in the tub. I’ll join you. I could use a wash.”

He let her go and she quickly got into the tub, sinking down until the heat and wet and fluff of the bubbles covered her. What did he mean he was going to join…

He stood up. From her position in the tub, he looked like a mile of man. He yanked off the dark red overshirt then pulled the black t-shirt over his head. 

She made a sound.

“What?” he asked, eyes narrowing.

“Your body is more stimulating than I imagined it would be.”

He made a snort through his noise. His big hand smacked his wide, strong abdomen. “Yeah, Michael wasn’t a fan of the beer belly.”

He sat down again on the toilet and bent over to unlace his boots. She watched it all, fascinated, as the candlelight glowed over his pale skin, much lighter that Kaia’s, highlighting the tiny specks like gold dust sprinkled across skin pulled tight over thick muscle. It was amazing to watch him do such a task. The simplicity of it, the permission, and the heady scented heat of the water made her feel at ease and struggling for breath at the same time. 

With his boots and socks off, he stood, put his big hands to the top of his pants, then met her eyes. He undid his pants, and his green gaze felt warming. He slid them down and she saw that vulnerable piece of him as he picked up a muscular leg to step into the tub.

“What’re you doing?” she asked, her heart racing in confusion as she quickly pulled her legs in as he lowered himself. “There isn’t room for the both of us.”

Water sloshed onto the floor. 

“Then we better fix that.” He spoke like the warm water had already seeped into his skin. He reached out and picked her up, flipped them both. Any instinctual urge to resist was negated by the slippery side of the water and porcelain and his strength. She suddenly found herself straddling him, perched on top of his thick thighs, and looking down into his face as her bubble-covered breasts bobbed just below his chin. 

Her mouth fell open in shock.

“Now there’s room,” he said. 

He was warm. He was hairy; she could feel the scrub of his leg hair on the inside of her thighs. He was…warm. He was big.

He watched her warily, his hands wrapped around her biceps.

She realized her heart was beating faster and faster. The center of her body was squeezing like she was trying to hold something inside her. She scooted closer to him, followed the instinct to soothe that ache.

He sucked in a breath. She could feel that soft piece of him.

“Hey,” he said. “Slow down.”

What did he mean? The only part of her moving rapidly was the heart he could not see.

“You ever been kissed?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Kaia,” she said. “Not me.”

“Okay,” he said. He looked at her like she was a cliff he was about to jump off. “C’mere.”

She was pressed as close to him as two people could be. How was she to get any closer?

But he put his fingers, hard fingers that had hurt her, against her chin. He slid it back, to the hinge of her jaw. Then he gave the lightest pull and…his lips. His soft, soft lips. They touched hers. They pressed. His closed eyes seemed to meld into one long eyelash. She startled back when he licked her.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Trying to kiss you.”

“Why would you…why do people…with their tongues?”

His lips quirked for just a second. “Because it feels good,” he said. “You gotta stop thinking so hard. Close your eyes.”

“Why?” she asked, instantly suspicious. 

He huffed breath out his nose. His eyelashes had gathered into wet, pretty clumps. “You asked me to teach you some pretty wild stuff. But before you let anyone do that shit to you, you make them kiss you first. Understand? You make them kiss you good.”

She understood his commands; his gentleness just confused her. Make them kiss me good, she thought.

She nodded and closed her eyes.

He huffed again, and his irritation made her want to press her tingling breasts against his wide chest. His fingers held her nape and he pulled on her arm and then he was kissing her, and he was right, it was different with her eyes closed. His lips, those soft lips, pressed and pulled at hers, creating soft sounds that made her feel like squirming on his lap, and then his tongue touched the corner of her lips, and the made her smile. It tickled. 

“You like that,” he murmured, his breath against her mouth. “Then you’ll like this.”

His tongue touched the tip of hers and he was right about that, too. It made no sense, the slide of that wet muscle into her mouth, but she did like it, she liked it so much that she pressed her face closer so he could lick more places in her mouth, let her feel him lick her teeth and her palate and the insides of her cheeks. She liked it so much that she licked back, just to see, and when he sucked on her tongue, she jolted so hard a wave of water splashed onto the floor.

She banged her knees against the side of the tub trying to press closer and felt that part of him, that part of him that had been soft, sooth her with his hardness. 

“You’re ready,” she said, grabbing his muscular shoulders to rub herself against it. It felt delicious, satiating and hungering at the same time. “You’re ready, let’s--“

He grabbed her waist. “Wait,” he said, panting. 

Even in the steam and the heat and the desire, she went cold. “We’d come to terms, Dean Winchester. Only after mounting me will you receive my spear. I must shed this need. If you refuse to—“

She gasped when his hand sank beneath the water and brushed between her legs. 

He kept doing it, soft, rubbing, flicking strokes with the thick pads of two of his fingers, as he pulled her close by her arm and kissed her again. “Sweetheart,” he said against her lips. “If you’d given me half a second, I coulda told that this was the worst way to get rid of a need. This only makes the need grow hotter.” He kissed her deeply with tongue, and he circled that spot, that berry, that she’d found, confirming that he was the man of pleasure she’d craved in her dreams. “We had a deal and I’m gonna see my end through.” She moaned around his thrusting tongue. “But when I was your age, I used to make out for hours and it was the best damn thing. You want me to teach you. You let me do it at my pace.”

He said the words while his thumb circled her berry. It was an impossible itch. She’d practiced the patience of starvation, of hypothermia, of dehydration, injury and illness. But the impatience of desire was newborn-new and maddening. 

She said what she’d never said to him — to anyone or anything — before. There was no equivalent of the word in her hell-home. “Please,” she said, bringing up her hands to cling to the back of his neck, thrusting against his hand. “Please. End this. Make this…make it give way. Please.” She moaned the word into his open mouth.

“Christ, sweetheart,” he groaned. “You make me forget why this is a bad idea.”

But he gripped her neck more firmly, kissed her deep and hard, while his hand moved more purposefully, his thumb moving and stroking and flicking while his long, middle finger tapped at the entrance of her. That wet, hot spot, like a mouth, felt like it was kissing at his fingertip, urging it inside, and her hips, they moved wildly, twisting and turning like she was trapped rather than eager, gripping his mouth against hers, the need fiery and starving but not… she couldn’t…

She breathed agony through her teeth. “It won’t stop,” she cried. “I need…it burns inside. Touch me inside.”

Instead, he pulled his hands from between her legs and pulled her close against him. His hardness branded her belly. Her breasts flattened against his chest. He chinned her hair aside and kissed her neck.

The shock of sensation instantly muzzled her body’s complaint. “I will, sweetheart.” She felt his deep, low words in her chest as much as she heard them. “But let’s get out. You’re gonna see lots of movies about people doing it in the water, but actually it’s no good. Your body gets slick to make it good for you. The water washes it away. Let’s get out. I’ll kiss where it hurts.”

She gave a weak, senseless sound, a gah and a gasp, and this human hunter dared to chuckle as he tucked his thick arm under her hind end, pulled himself forward with his other hand, and stood, lifting them both out of the tub. 

Water sluiced down them both as he tilted his head to look into her eyes. His smile gave her back whatever slickness the water had taken away. “You make me forget what a bad idea this is.”


End file.
